


Cigarette Daydreams

by deathtothecrows



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Non-Graphic Smut, a whole lotta gay, later on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 09:54:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19461559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathtothecrows/pseuds/deathtothecrows
Summary: Soft evenings turn into something more.





	Cigarette Daydreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The_Doktor_Medic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Doktor_Medic/gifts).



> This fic is 100% dedicated to my amazing friend Baba as thanks for reading to me while I'm at work, and letting me in on her creative process. Her Ao3 is : https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Doktor_Medic/pseuds/The_Doktor_Medic  
> and her Tumblr is :  
> https://lu-undy.tumblr.com/
> 
> Go check her out!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> Note: I do not promote the use of cigarettes, E or otherwise, I'm mostly just trying to use the fact that it's one of the few things they have in common in canon.
> 
> The song Cigarette Daydreams by Cage the Elephant:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QuFb2iRhM7M

The air was crisp when it curled into Sniper’s lungs, exchanging itself with the smoke there in a brisk, but calm manner. The sun was sinking low into the horizon as the marksman leaned his back against the firm walls of the base and took another drag from the stale, off brand cigarettes he’d found at the local convenience store. The man might have loads of money, but it mattered little where he got his nicotine fix from, all that mattered was that it was at least semi-potent, and convenient (hence why he’d bought them from the convenience store). The smoke drifted from his lips and dissipated into the rapidly cooling night air. 

Why the gravel wars were going on in a barren desert landscape were beyond him, it was too hot in the daytime and too cold in the night; although he supposed that the idea was to mine _gravel_ and not, say, corn or something. Still though, he wished the bloody war were going on somewhere more temperate, he’d had his fill of extreme climates from when he had lived in Aus. 

He took another drag from his cigarette, and shivered.

“What are you doing here.” a voice manifested itself, by the Sniper’s right shoulder, and then, a man manifested himself as well. The accent was all to familiar and the marksman was keenly aware of having to stifle a groan as it tried to pry its way from his lips. 

“Having a durry, what’s it look like.” 

The freshly manifested man frowned at the sarcasm, and found himself repeating his previous words. 

“Yes but what are you doing _here_.” He put careful emphasis around the latest of words, one eyebrow raising to add to the performance. To Sniper it seemed like his tone was almost accusatory.

It was.

“I just told you mate,” Sniper took the unfortunate tobacco wrapped in what was probably reused paper out of his mouth, and coughed. Directly onto the Spy. The smoke settled onto the man’s face along with a look of utter contempt. If looks could kill, well, the taller man would’ve gone extinct. “I’m having a durry, now bugger off.”

A growl crawled inconspicuously out of Spy’s throat, before he coughed and waved away the offending air pollution. “This is my spot, go find your own.”

Sniper had never before heard something so petty come out of the other man’s mouth and was taken aback by it, if only briefly. “My usual spot is taken by whatever the hell that hardhat is building now.” 

The Frenchman huffs as he reaches into his suit and takes out the somewhat bulky cigarette case from somewhere within the depths of his well tailored suit. Sniper had always marveled at how it managed not to bulge from the very form fitting outfit while it was in his pocket. Movie magic, he supposed, and left that thought to go back to not thinking at all. 

Long fingers plucked a perfectly rolled cigarette from the metal case before closing it and putting it back into the impossible pocket. From seemingly the same pocket he produced a half used matchbook. He struck a match, lit the long cig, and then tossed the now useless tool into a mason jar half full of water. The other half was full of used cigs and matches, and desperately needed to be cleaned.

The shorter man - although still tall by average estimation - inhaled slowly, carefully, letting himself enjoy this. He felt the weight of unnatural air in his lungs, a familiar and unfortunately comforting feeling. The anxiety cinching his stomach relaxed as he exhaled, a lavender-scented plume escaping to the sky above.

Sniper couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose.

Why anyone would want scented or flavored (or whatever) cigarettes was beyond him. It’s not like people pick up this habit for fun, and it definitely helped with anxiety and stuff but it sure as hell was bad for you. No point in spending that much money on a bad habit.

It might be useful to note here that the RED Sniper doesn’t see much of a point on spending money on anything, preferring to be frugal. He was the sort of man who was contented with spending his cash on his parents and weapon upgrades. Not much else. An aunt of his had commended him for his view on money once. He didn’t like her much. 

The two men sat in amiable silence for a while, almost mirroring each other in stance, both of them leaning languidly against the wall. Sniper had one hand in his pocket to keep out the cold, the other holding the “durry”, the two switching when one hand got cold. Spy had his arms crossed in front of his chest, leaving the paper roll in his mouth as he usually did on the battlefield.

The night faded to grey.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next night Spy found that the Sniper had once again invaded his space. Sure Spy had his smoking room but it had become a habit for him to smoke outside after dinner. It seemed it was the marksman’s habit too. 

He didn’t know how to feel about it.

Apparently Sniper didn’t either, because he shifted uneasily, almost apologetically, when the Spy drew near. Eventually the apparent uneasiness faded as the two of them fell into the same comfortable silence as the night before.

The sky was clear, as it was most nights, and this far away from any real city, the stars could easily be seen. For Sniper they reminded him of nights he’d spent sleeping on top of the barn roof back home. For Spy it reminded him of French wheat fields late at night. They sighed contentedly in unison, each man wrapped up in a soft kind of nostalgia. Sniper was the first to break the silence, his voice a growling whisper that sent involuntary shivers up the other assassin’s spine. “The stars are so different here.”

Spy nodded, puffing a smoke ring up to the sky, a trick he learned from an old street performer he’d met on the outskirts of Paris decades ago. “The world seems so small when you’ve traveled it all, but the stars remind us how far we’ve gone.”

The Aussie hmmed in agreement, taking a long drag that sunk his already gaunt cheeks. He looked almost elegant in the late evening night, and Spy let that thought churn around his head for only a moment before quelling it and averting his eyes. 

That was the second day.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Engineer had moved his machinery from Sniper’s usual place by the garage, and so Spy didn’t expect him again. He was _pleasantly_ surprised. He didn’t know how to feel about the fact that it was pleasant, but he ignored that.

Sniper had surprised himself, his feet, acting on an instinct that had somehow developed within the course of two days, his feet had carried him to the West Wing, to Spy’s favorite spot. _Bugger._

“Still here?” Spy arched one eyebrow, a favourite expression of his.

“If you don’t mind it. This spot’s got a better view of the sunset anyhow.”

The Spy gave a noncommittal grunt and they began their ritual with little more fuss.

Sniper found himself glancing up as he tapped out a cig from a fresh box. The other man’s movements were fluid and precise from years of repetition. Every shift of his body was elegant and warmth started creeping up the sharpshooter’s neck. He swallowed hard to quell it… and ended up nearly swallowing his cigarette.

What followed was a series of intense hacks and coughs that Spy would later describe as Earth Shattering and Ear Splitting (later known as the ES incident). 

“ _Merde_ ,” Spy’s cigarette fell out of his mouth as he rushed over to Sniper and pounded his back three times before the damn thing dislodged itself from Sniper’s esophagus. Not two seconds after this Sniper led himself into a controlled collapse to the ground, falling to all fours, and then letting himself lay on the ground, forehead pressed against concrete still warm from the sun, which had just begun to set. Blood rushed to his head as he tried to regulate his breathing. 

Spy crouched down next to him, remembered that he was wearing an expensive suit, and decided to sit on the other man’s lower back instead of the ground.

“Oi, get off me Spook,” came a low growl from beneath Sniper’s hat, “I need to breath.”

“I’m not sitting on your lungs.”

Muffled grumbling could be heard again, any words being softened into oblivion by the ground they were being spoken into.

Spy could feel his heart pounding erratically from the encounter, strange because he was rarely one to get riled up, especially about something so trivial. It was almost like he _cared_. The Frenchman chuckled to himself at the thought, and took out his cigarette case for the second time that night.

“You owe me a cigarette, _mon ami_ -” Spy saw the other man’s hand reach for his pocket, “-and not your cheap shit either.”

Another growl was muffled by the pavement. 

This time Spy could pick out some colorful phrases.

**Author's Note:**

> I read somewhere that Aussies call cigs, "durry" if this is wrong feel free to correct me lmao.
> 
> Please leave kudos and Comments to let me know if what I'm doing is any good or not! constructive criticism is always welcome :D
> 
> -Mattie


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